


Overprotective!CanadaXDeaf!Reader

by AceOfHearts



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfHearts/pseuds/AceOfHearts





	1. Overprotective!CanadaXDeaf!Reader Chapter 1

"____!!! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked you to do that!" Matthew frantically shakes your shoulders, attempting to snap you back into attention. Your eyes glaze over slightly as you float in and out of consciousness. Your head hurts too much right now to form any kind of word or thought. He whips his head around, looking for someone to help you. Nothing about you seems out of the ordinary, except a few cuts and bruises, and your behavior.

 

He shouldn't have dared you to go as fast as you could on your bike, because with your speed, something got stuck in the bike chain and caused you to fall and land pretty hard on your head. He thought that just because it was in the parking lot, and not in a crowded street, you didn't have to wear a helmet. You had thought the same way, but that all changed when you were detached from your bike, into the air and onto the ground, all in a few seconds.

 

The pain. It's coursing through your body with every heartbeat. The faint whispers of breath is the only thing you can do right now, and it's nearly impossible. The uneven, rough ground scrapes and digs against your skin as you lay there. Your eyes close and the world flashes in a multitude of colors as you finally black out. The last thing you hear is the sound of Matthew apologizing.

\----------------

"I'm sorry, but the accident was so severe that it resulted in nerve damage." The doctor says as he shows and gestures to the x-ray in the emergency room. Your parents have faces that mirror shock and grief. Your mother asks the doctor a question and looks at you at the end of her sentence.

 

Matthew sits in a chair pulled as close as possible to your hospital bed. Your breathing and heartbeat are now steady, marked by the rising and falling of your chest and the lines and beeps of the monitor. Your eyes are closed, and they twitch slightly as you sleep, probably in a dream. Snatches of your parents' conversation reaches his ears, and he wishes that he could reverse time, especially when he hears the words 'deaf' and 'head trauma'.

 

All his fault, all his fault, all his fault. He blames himself for all of this. He shouldn't have made you do it. He was supposed to be your best friend, not someone who hurts you. He lets out a choked sob and roughly wipes at the tears with the sleeve of his light brown coat. They leave long, dark streaks behind as they soak into the fabric. Scars. He sees them on himself and on you. He can't let any more appear, especially for you.

 

He feels something change within him, a tiny spark of courage, perhaps. At least, that's what he thinks it is. He'll know soon enough.


	2. Overprotective!CanadaXDeaf!Reader Chapter 2

The lights. They're too bright and sudden on your sensitive eyes, and even before you opened them, they burned fiery red against your eyelids. You try to shade yourself with your arm, but seeing that it's connected to an IV drip and other monitors, you settle with closing your eyes halfway. Your other arm feels dead because it's trapped under your side and cocooned in twisted sheets. You hate the feeling of the unfamiliar, thin, and crisp bedsheets on your body and the scent of disinfected..everything. You kick off the sheets halfway and shake your arm that was trapped to get some feeling back.

Letting out a quiet snort, you look around the room. 'Hospital room', your brain corrects. You take in the small, closed off room with the thick curtain hanging down, almost brushing the floor. A cold feeling coming from an outside source must be the IV drip, and you touch the needle lightly, wincing. You gaze at the monitor next to the IV stand, a single line going up and down with every second. Numbers change on the screen, too.

A chair is placed next to your bed's other side, a figure curled up on it seems to be sleeping soundly. In the thick folds of his jacket, Matthew's face is barely visible, and his hair sticks up messily in all directions. A tear moves slowly down his face and settles at the end of his jawline.

You tilt your head, confused. Why is he crying? You're not dead from the accident, although it still hurts a bit to move. Gingerly sitting up and bending over, you stroke his hair.

"Please don't cry, Matthew," you whisper, "I'm still here, so it's okay!"

He stirs and jerks out of his sleep with a startled expression. His mouth opens and starts to move, but you don't hear anything. Maybe he was speaking too softly for you to hear, like he usually does.

"Say it again, I couldn't hear." You say, and he suddenly looks as if his world is shattered.

He shakes his head somberly and grasps your hand, squeezing it tightly. He looks away as his lips start to tremble and lets out a new round of tears. He feels the 'all his fault' self-accusations coming back to torment him while you look on in innocent confusion. He doesn't know how to break the news to you. Looking around for blank sheets of paper but finding none, he drops his grip on your hand and goes over to the paper towel dispenser at the other side of the room.

Picking up a pen on his way back, he places the paper towels on an unoccupied spot on the bed and uncaps the pen. In his clumsy, undeveloped writing, he scrawls out a short message that relays everything the doctor had said about your condition. A feeling similar to being punched in the stomach takes hold of you. You don't know what to do, except to accept it and be grateful that nothing worse happened.

Letting your (h/c) hair form a curtain to shield yourself for a few moments, you brush it back and smile as bravely as you can. Who are you trying to convince more? Yourself or Matthew? You pick up the paper towel and smooth away the wrinkles, eyes catching sight of a smaller message underneath the main one.

"'I'll protect you..'" It says, underlined multiple times.


End file.
